


The Finished Story

by casualsnail



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: A continuation of Sylvain and Bernadetta's support because their supports warmed my heart, Fluff, Friendship, Just pals being supportive, Post-Time Skip
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-22
Updated: 2019-08-22
Packaged: 2020-09-23 18:00:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20344327
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/casualsnail/pseuds/casualsnail
Summary: Five years after the fall of Garreg Mach Monastery, Sylvain returns to find that Bernadetta's finished her book.A take on the A-rank support we were deprived of





	The Finished Story

**Author's Note:**

> Big thank you to @Nosferatank for Beta reading, you should all go check out their stuff for some much needed platonic content. I wrote this in a creative fury last night after a conversation with some pals over discord.

Today had been exhausting. There had been an unfortunate accident during training that had not been his fault, and had absolutely nothing to do with the fact that he’d angered one of the girls living near Garreg Mach to the extent that she’d sprinkled gunpowder around the target dummies just before he’d decided to practice magic. Really, it could’ve happened to anyone. Yet, Sylvain had found himself stuck at the end of an exhausted glare from the professor, who’d made him help clean up the mess and the rubble from the cathedral to boot. If he’d known that he would be stuck with the same look of disapproval and punishment from five years ago when he’d been a student, perhaps Sylvain would’ve been a little less happy to see the professor again after so long.

Okay, maybe that was being a bit unfair. Despite the chaos of being thrown into a war, Byleth had taken to their new position with the usual calm from their days at the academy. They still found time to listen to all of their former student’s problems with the same old tired patience that almost made Sylvain feel like he was back at the academy. No war tearing up the world around them or threatening to destroy all that they knew. That still wouldn't stop Sylvain from mentally cursing them out as he rubbed his tired shoulders.

After hauling himself up the flight of stairs and down the hallway to where his room from his time at the academy was, Sylvain pushed open the door, not bothering to take his shoes off before collapsing onto his bed. As his back collided with his mattress, he felt something hard there to. Hopefully it wasn’t a bomb placed by an ex-lover. Sylvain groaned, contemplating if it was worth it to check what the mysterious object was. Eventually, the discomfort of lying on something clearly not meant to be laid on won out, and he hauled himself to sitting position and picked up the object.

It was a book of some sort, a few pages sticking out of the leather binding at odd angles. Definitely not the sort of thing Sylvain would’ve left on his own bed. It looked oddly familiar, but in his tired state, he couldn’t place where he’d seen it before. Curiously, he flipped it open to the first page and examined the contents.

Almost immediately, the feeling of nostalgia rushed into his stomach. He recognized the handwriting, a careful river of words gracing the pages with tight loops. The writing, too, was familiar. He knew the name of the character whose clumsy yet admirable deeds were scrawled into the pages. This was Bernadetta’s book, the one he’d read on accident all those years ago at the academy.

Sylvain glanced at the width of the book, much thicker than he remembered it. He felt himself smile despite his exhaustion. So, she’d kept writing, even after the war had broken out. The thought warmed his heart, and Sylvain propped himself up with a pillow before bringing his knees up and leaning the book against them. Starting from the first page, he lost himself in the words he remembered capturing his full attention five years ago.

Sylvain read until he fell asleep, the book still laying open across his chest. When the first hints of sunlight slipped through his window, he rubbed his eyes and picked up the book again. It was just as incredible as he remembered it. As he heard the other occupants of his floor shuffle downstairs as they woke, Sylvain knew he should probably stop to eat breakfast, but he couldn’t. Each word seemed to draw him in further, the story unfurling furiously in his mind with each page turned. By the time he turned to the last page, it was well past noon, yet he hardly noticed. After he read the final words, Sylvain stared at the page, not fully understanding the emotions running through him. He wanted there to be more, and yet at the same time he was so satisfied with how it ended. Sighing, he went to set the book down, when something dropped onto his lap, from where it had been tucked in between the last page and back cover of the book. He picked it up, a neatly folded piece of parchment, and opened it up curiously.

_ Dear Sylvain,_ read the first line in the same handwriting as the book. _I suppose there are numerous reasons to be grateful for everyone returning to the monastery, one of them being that I can finally show you the end to my book. I hope it holds up as well as it did five years ago, when you first stumbled upon it by accident. _

_You know, I was terrified when I learned that you had read my book. I knew it was a stupid, useless waste of my time, and that I had no talent or hope for my future. As seems to be the case for most things back then, I had no faith in my writing. I was so sure you were going to scold me for wasting my time on writing my story, or laugh at it and call both me and it a piece of garbage. I was prepared to destroy it and hide back away in my room forever. Then you wrote me that letter, so thoughtful and full of detail that I actually felt like I’d done something right. Me, Bernie, doing something good! I didn’t think things like that back then, I just didn’t. _

_By some miracle, you not only didn’t hate my book, you actually liked it enough to take the time to write a letter like that. And somehow, that inspired me enough to keep writing. Even during the war, after a terrible battle where all I wanted to do was hide away, I kept thinking back to how good I felt reading that letter. And I kept writing. I didn’t think I’d ever get the chance to show you my writing again, but I still wrote. Because of your letter, I thought that maybe I wasn’t wasting my time by writing my book, that maybe, for once in my life, I was doing something meaningful. _

_When I finished the book, I still didn’t have the confidence to show it to anyone. Yet, I know that I wouldn’t have had the courage to finish it at all if you hadn’t been so supportive. I never got the chance to thank you for your letter back when we were at the academy, so I’m doing that now. Thank you for giving me the strength I needed to keep doing what I wanted. Assuming you read to the end, you’re the first person to read my story. I’m trusting you with that, so please don’t say anything mean! I’m sorry for writing such an embarrassing letter, but I don’t think I could say this out loud. _

_Sincerely, Bernadetta _

Sylvain smiled at the letter, folding it carefully and setting it on his desk. It felt good, to know that his letter had inspired Bernadetta to keep writing. He tucked her book under his arm, and pushed himself off his bed. It’d be a shame if he was the only one to read such a fantastic book, after all. Hopefully Bernadetta was less timid than she had been five years ago, otherwise he’d have a hard time convincing her to share her book with other people.

It turned out that finding Bernadetta was a challenge in and of itself, considering she’d opened up enough to venture outside of her old dorm room. She still enjoyed seclusion though, as Sylvain found her in a hidden nook outside the stables humming to herself.

“Heya Bernadetta,” He said, resting his hands behind his head. There was a loud squeak, as Bernadetta quite literally jumped, whirling around and instantly shrinking down on herself when she saw him. Some things never did change.

“S-Sylvain! W-w-what are you doing here?” She stammered, sizing up any possible escape routes.

“I came to return your book,” he grinned, handing her the leather tome. Bernadetta snatched it out of his hands, eyeing him suspiciously.

“Y-you read it?!” She jumped backwards, still looking like she would flee at any moment, but still waiting to hear his response.

“I couldn’t bear to put it down! It’s just as amazing as I remembered it!” Bernadetta looked up at him, still not meeting his eyes.

“What did you think of the ending?” She muttered, so quiet Sylvain could hardly hear her, as if she was reaching into the depths of her being to find the courage to ask.

“It was incredible, I was holding my breath the entire time,” Sylvain gushed. “The heroine’s decision at the end left me shaking. It was so perfect, I don’t think I have the words to describe how perfect it was.”

“R-really?” Bernadetta choked out. Sylvain nodded.

“Really. I think you should show it to other people, I guarantee you it’ll be a huge success!”

Bernadetta yelped at that. “O-other people! I- I don’t think… I mean…” She glanced towards the ground, hugging her book to her chest. “Well… maybe…”

Sylvain beamed at that answer. “Hey, I wanted to thank you for that letter you wrote to.” Bernadetta didn’t make a sound, so he continued. “I mean, it felt really good, knowing that even a good-for-nothing like me could help someone out like that.”

“You’re not a good for nothing,” Bernadetta whispered, so softly Sylvain thought he might have imagined it.

“What?”

“I- uh, well, you may act like a cruel demon who plays with the hearts of innocent maidens.” Sylvain winced, that stung a little. “But it’s really just an act. You took the time to write out such a thoughtful letter after reading my book, and you’re always helping people out when they need it…”

Bernadetta swallowed, taking a moment to work up her courage. “You may think you’re a good-for-nothing, but that’s not true. Everyone’s good for something… even me,” She carefully glanced at him, still hunched up around herself. “S-so you shouldn’t be so down on yourself.”

Sylvain felt his throat tighten. “Bernadetta…”

“I mean, you’re pretty nice, and good at fighting, so… you know!” Her cheeks turned crimson, her usual terrified look making its way back onto her face. “Augh, nevermind! Stupid Bernie, why are you so bad at being supportive!” She cried out, darting past him so fast Sylvain stumbled to keep his balance. Before he knew it, she’d rounded the corner, and disappeared in a cloud of dust.

“She hasn’t changed much after all,” Sylvain sighed, glancing at where she’d run. Not being so down on himself, huh. He smiled down at the ground, a warm feeling blossoming across his chest. It was nice, hearing things like that. Hopefully, he’d convinced Bernadetta to share her book with others. But even if she didn’t… Well, it was awfully nice to feel useful, he supposed.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Bernadetta and Sylvain's support conversations were so cute, and the world needs more platonic content, especially with characters who are more sexualized than others like Sylvain.


End file.
